


your heart knows in a moment (you will never be the same again)

by maybelletea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Zayn, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Sick Louis, Sickfic, University Student Louis, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybelletea/pseuds/maybelletea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Zayn share a drunken kiss but then neither of them mention it.</p>
<p>Louis is sick. Zayn is less attentive than usual. Both are a bit stupid about things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart knows in a moment (you will never be the same again)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for h/c and sickfics so this one got away from me a little bit. I'm so in love with Louis/Zayn, I'll likely write more.
> 
> Titled because [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qazULtKJD1s) is one of the most romantic melodies ever.
> 
> This was really fun to write, I hope you guys enjoy it!

The kiss didn't even last that long, really, if Louis thinks about it. The house had been crowded, the bass of the music too loud as usual, making everything pulse. And it was an accident, too- they were certainly drunk but neither of them sat down and decided, _hey, we should kiss now_. Someone had bumped into Zayn and Louis had caught him. Apparently they were both way too horny because before Louis could actually process anything, they both moved at the same time and their lips were smashed together, moving lazily and drunkenly.

A couple seconds later they pulled away and it was over as quickly as it started. They were jarringly broken out of their spell by Harry and Niall yelling about something that was going on in another part of the house.

Accidental kissing. What a cliché.

Anyway, the point is, the kiss didn't last very long. Louis supposes Harry and Niall had saved them, in a way, from the completely awkward and confusing thing that had just happened.

The kiss wasn't planned, so it shouldn't count. At all. At least, Louis tries to convince himself of that. He's doing a terrible job of it, though, because his mind keeps jumping back to how soft Zayn's lips had felt.

It doesn't help that they live together.

**

Louis continues to act like everything is fine after that party on Friday, even though it really isn't. He goes to class, he eats his vegetables (kind of), he studies. He even calls his mother, which should  give him some good karma because he usually forgets to do that. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't help but feel on edge. Zayn is avoiding him in their apartment. If Harry has noticed (as he lives with them, too), he hasn't said anything. It's driving Louis mad.

To make matters worse, Zayn is taking a year off uni, and even though he works full-time, he seems to be in the flat way too frequently for Louis to handle. They keep passing each other in the hallway, and on a regular day they'd naturally start up a chat or Zayn would tackle him, but now Louis just gets a subdued greeting and a quickened pace.

So far, the only time they've had a conversation since the party was when Zayn couldn't find a ruler and Louis had to help him look. It was getting ridiculous, and Louis thinks Zayn should just start acting normally again. Because he's the one being weird, not Louis. Louis is definitely not thinking about Zayn's lips for the better part of the day, or the way his neck curves gracefully or the way his fingers are long and slender and perfect-

He has English lit and history class today and he hopes the rhythm of academics will help him get his mind off of things. The only downside is he has to stuff his bag with fifty thousand books. Louis hates textbooks. Classes should just require online readings. It would be a lot better for his back.

He shifts the straps of his backpack, grumbling.

"Someone's in a mood this morning," Harry says to his right. He has the same English class as Louis so they always take the same old route from their flat to the university at the same time, twice a week. The walk is nice, and the air is crisp now because it's the middle of October. The trees are in full autumnal bloom, the oranges and reds and yellows exploding in bright color. It's quite beautiful. Louis can't much appreciate it right now, though, because he keeps thinking about bloody Zayn and now bloody Harry is calling him out on it and everything is bloody annoying. And his throat is itching but he doesn't want to cough.

"I'm going to be in a much worse mood if you continue to prattle on about it." Louis scuffs the soles of his converse on the sidewalk moodily, hunching over to free up the weight on his back. He brings his hand up to his mouth and tries to clear his throat. This turns out to be a bad idea, because then he starts coughing for the next five seconds. _Je_ sus.

"Okay," Harry says slowly, over the sound of Louis dying.

"Sorry," Louis says, even though he's not. He breathes slowly and cautiously, and figures he's done dying for the time being. "I didn't get enough sleep or something." This is actually a good excuse, because he _doesn't_ feel like he got enough sleep. Also, he's cold. Colder than he should be for the fairly mild weather, in his opinion.

They're only a couple minutes into the walk when Louis hears quick footsteps behind him and a voice calling their names. A voice he'd recognize anywhere. He and Harry turn around.

Zayn is running up to them, clad in a red sweater, leather jacket and skinny black jeans, his hair styled into a sort of small coif at the top, looking stupidly perfect. Louis tries to keep himself from glaring at the sight.

"Hey," Zayn says when he reaches them, sounding a little out of breath. "I remembered I needed to go to store so I figured I'd catch up with you."

He nods at Louis, and then launches into a conversation with Harry about this foreign art film he had Harry watch the other week. Louis had been worried about dying of boredom from so he'd passed.

Louis shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He doesn't care that Zayn is barely paying attention to him. Whatever. He has all kinds of important things to be focusing on, and he doesn't need Zayn distracting him, anyway. What these important things were, he isn't certain of yet, but he'll figure it out.

Fuck, why is he so _cold_? Harry is out here in this weather too, not even in long sleeves, and Louis feels like he needs a jacket; his baseball tee is not cutting it. He shivers somewhat violently, not realizing there'd been a lull in the uninteresting conversation going on next to him, because Zayn looks at him and catches his eye. Louis' heart skips.

"You wanna take this?" Zayn asks, gesturing to his jacket.

What kind of chivalrous bullshit is this? Louis feels himself blush for some reason, now that Zayn and Harry both are staring at him. "No," Louis says, slightly affronted. "I'm fine."

Zayn looks at him like he doesn't really believe him, but doesn't push the subject. Good. Louis doesn't want to take his stupid jacket.

**

He'd always been the closest with Zayn. They met through Harry as Zayn was Harry's roommate, and Louis needed a place to stay that was close to the university, so he'd started living with them. Somehow they got on almost immediately. At first, Louis wasn't sure, because Zayn seemed introverted and Louis was the exact opposite of introverted. But it wasn't long before they realized they were more alike than they thought.

Out of all of them in their friend group, Niall being the most recent addition with Louis knowing Harry and Liam for years, he and Zayn somehow became the most tight knit, despite the fact they'd only known each other for so long.

It worked out, living with Harry and Zayn. It was already over a year now. A year of long talks in the middle of the night and heated discussions about comics and football and cooking up dumb pranks to play on the others because when Louis gets with Zayn, they're partners in crime.

So, everything was great.

Until that party.

Because now Louis and Zayn have kissed and neither of them are talking about it and Louis kind of wants to throw a table out the window, or something equally as dramatic.

He settles for kicking his trashcan over, but then he's in a worse mood because he has to pick up all the crumpled Kleenex from the floor.

**  
Zayn works full-time at the uni café, whereas Louis works part-time-  Zayn had gotten him the job months ago and Louis is grateful because he needs the money. His family isn't exactly the most well-off and he has to pay for half of his tuition himself. He may be part-time but he works a _lot_. Anyway, normally he's grateful, because he likes his job and it's a nice atmosphere and working with his best friend is a plus.

Today he's just tired. And irritated. And stuffy.

He can only fucking breathe through one nostril and his goddamn nose keeps _running_ and it’s really getting to him.

He sighs, goes to get a towel from the cabinet behind him to clean the glass case. Mostly he's annoyed because earlier on this particular day Liam had brought up the party last week, and Zayn couldn't look Louis in the eye. What, was he ashamed that they'd kissed? Was that it? Louis isn't bringing it up either, and he gets that Zayn probably wants to forget it happened. Louis does too. Maybe.

Anyway, he could at least try to act normal with him. For Christ's sake, Louis is trying here.

Harry seems like he knows something, because he kept glancing between Louis and Zayn like some kind of concerned hen.

Louis thinks suddenly that maybe Zayn had told Harry about the drunken kiss and they had a good laugh about it. He knows this  thought doesn't actually make any sense, and Zayn and Harry would never laugh about him, but he slams the cabinet too hard anyway.

"Hey, Louis!"

An Irish lilt rings through the air. It's Niall, Harry's boyfriend. Or at least,  Louis is pretty damn sure he's his boyfriend but neither of them had said it out loud even though he'd caught them snogging in the hallway more than once- frankly, it was exhausting. They'd all met Niall a few months ago and had become friends right away, Liam introduced him to the group through one of his classes. Harry and Niall had been dancing around their feelings for too long.

In the back of his mind, a little voice tells Louis that he's not one to talk. Louis tells that voice to shut the fuck up.

"Niall, how are ya," he greets easily. The café is at its slow period in the day (thank god) so he can get away with socializing for a few minutes.

"Good, good. You?" Niall nods at him.

"Brilliant." Terrible.

 "And uh, is Harry...?" Niall tries to look casual about it but fails when he can't decide where to put his hands and ends up putting them on his hips and in his pockets before settling them on the counter.

Louis smirks and tries not to laugh. "Harry is doing beautifully, Ni." He sniffs, hopefully discreetly, and rubs his nose with the back of his wrist. "What can I get for you?"

"I'll just take a medium house coffee, black," Niall says, grinning. Thinking about Harry, no doubt.  Louis fights the urge to roll his eyes.

He grabs the cup and starts pumping the hot liquid. He keeps sniffling, his nose twitching, and it's extremely irritating because  he's trying to act healthy but it's hard when you're fucking sniffling all the time. Louis fills the cup all the way to the top without room for milk or cream and sets the coffee on the counter. He's about to ring Niall up when he's interrupted.

"You sick?" Niall asks casually while getting a few pounds out of his wallet.

Louis jumps a little, startled. "No," he says defensively before he can stop himself, even though this is hard to back up because he's still sniffing wetly. He takes Niall's money and rings him up, gives him back his change. His face starts to burn with embarrassment and he curses himself inwardly. He was really trying his best to look healthy, and he'd been washing his hands every ten minutes. He even has a bottle of hand sanitizer sitting next to the cash register, for god's sake. He lowers his voice, hoping none of his co-workers can hear him even though it's fine because they're doing inventory in the backroom. "I mean, I don't know. Kind of-"

"Hey, don't worry, I'm not a freak about germs or anything." Niall is smiling at him sympathetically, holding his hands up; he takes the paper cup and fastens a lid on it. "Just wonderin' if you should be working, is all."

"I need the hours," Louis says quietly, but he still feels a little ashamed. Ashamed to be caught, ashamed to be sick in the first place.

"S'all right, mate."

After Niall leaves, there is a moment when no one is in the café room except him, so Louis leans behind the cash register, shielding himself from view, and sneezes hard into his elbow, toward the floor. Then he hastily washes his hands again, roughly scrubbing the soap into his skin, wondering if he's contagious and should be wearing some sort of face mask. Louis snorts at the thought- then hedefinitely wouldn't be allowed to work.

But, whatever. It's not like he has the plague. And he really _does_ need his hours this week. In fact, he's quite desperate for them. Not to mention he's pretty sure his boss would pressure him to come in anyway. Washing his hands constantly would have to do.

He takes a few painkillers, downs a coffee, and gets through the rest of his shift faking good health remarkably well.

**

Harry notices it first after Niall, even though Louis is skillfully and effectively hiding his slow descent into woeful illness by attempting to upkeep his usual level of energy. It's hard, though, and Harry always catches onto him. They've known each other far too long.

He doesn't say anything about it to him directly, though, just wordlessly hands him a packet of cough drops, and Louis feels oddly offended because he hadn't been coughing very much, just in the mornings. Who was Harry to imply he's sick?

Well. He _is_ sick, but that's not the point. Still, he takes the bag, mumbles a quiet thank you.

Harry's kind-of-boyfriend is coming over later, and Louis kind of just wants to stay in his room and stare at his Dickens anthology until his eyes can't take it anymore, but he also wants to keep up the whole energetic thing so he trudges out into the living room and- oh, good, there's alcohol on the counter. Louis really needs that right now. It would take his mind off his beautiful black-haired roommate with his extremely kissable mouth.

"Drinks before dinner, Harold?" Louis asks, taking the bottle of vodka from the granite with a flourish.

"D'you really think that's a good idea?" Harry is looking at him sternly, with his arms crossed. It's hard to take him seriously though because he's wearing an apron that says _Kiss the Cook!_ and a smiley face. He bets Niall would take Harry up on the offer.

Honestly, Harry was no fun sometimes. "Yes, love," Louis says. "I do." In his opinion, he's healthy enough to drink a little, and no one can stop him.

He makes himself a cocktail with three shots and lies on the sofa, pointedly ignoring the concerned vibes he's getting from the kitchen, focusing instead on the smell of the pasta sauce cooking, listening to the boiling water bubble in the pot. He downs the drink in about ten minutes, the alcohol burning his throat a bit. He doesn't care if it's generally not a good idea to drink when you're sick. It feels like a good idea, and therefore, it must be. Perfect logic.

Honestly, he doesn't care if he feels worse in the morning anyway. He just wants to feel better _right now._ And judging by the buzz he's getting, it's working.

Zayn comes out from the hallway, the smell of food cooking probably luring him from his reclusive art cave. He was a bit like a nocturnal animal when he had a day off of work- you didn't see him much when it was light out, but at night you could always lure him out with the promise of food.

"Niall coming over tonight, Harry?" Zayn asks.

"Yep!" Harry exclaims the kitchen, and Louis can just hear the grin in his voice. He peeks over the couch, and he's right- Harry is beaming, cutting up an artichoke or something. Louis feels happy for Harry, he really does, but his mind keeps going back to that party.

"Zayn," Louis drawls, surprising himself. "Get over here, you prat."

Zayn complies, flopping down on the couch and giving Louis a small smirk. "Drunk already." It's not a question. Whatever, so what if Louis is drunk before seven. He drank quickly on an empty stomach and he deserves to escape from reality right now.

"No, I am..." Louis pauses, trying to think of a suitable word. "Buzzed."

Zayn makes a non committal noise, drapes his arm over the top of the sofa. Louis has the sudden urge to pull down his arm, tug him over and bring him closer. They're almost touching, but not quite, and Louis feels a sort of tingling in his hand from the proximity.

Louis opens his mouth to say something, but he feels a tickle in his sinuses, and he bobs forward suddenly, stifling a silent sneeze in the crook of his arm. Probably shouldn't have done that, because now his head is pounding.

"Christ," he murmurs, sighing.

Zayn is staring at him, an odd look on his face. "Feeling alright?"

"Never better, Zayn, m'boy," Louis lies easily, patting Zayn on the leg. Something obviously unspoken hovers in the air, and Louis shifts uncomfortably. He knows what they're both thinking about because this is one of the few times they've been mostly alone since the party.

Thankfully, neither of them have to say anything, because then Niall is at the door with Liam, and Harry is letting them in and yelling something about the weird dream he had last night with all of them in it. There's a commotion going on now; Zayn has gotten up to kick Liam in the shin for some reason. Louis shudders, eyes fluttering, and he takes this opportunity to lean over the arm of the sofa and sneeze openly. That was better. God, he needs another drink.

"Bless," Liam says to him, smiling, and Louis flinches. His face burns. He doesn't know why he's embarrassed- it's not like he needs to hide the fact that he's ill. But for some reason he feels uncomfortable with attention on him when he's weak.

"Thanks." Louis nods at Liam, who is too polite for his own good. Louis pulls his hand through his hair, gets off the sofa, and joins them in the kitchen.

"This smells fantastic, Harry," Niall says, examining the pot filled with sauce.

Harry's blushing now, and he rubs the back of his neck. "Ah, you know, just kind of... threw it together."

"You kidding me?" Zayn guffaws. "Harry spent nearly two hours trying to concoct the perfect recipe because-" He can't get much else out because Harry kicks him in the leg. Niall grins.

"Well, okay, I like my food to be good," Harry says, laughing a little.

Liam heads over to the pot and says something about how hungry he is and they should just eat _now_ and Louis wishes he could say he feels the same, but the thought of eating is making him a bit nauseous.

He sniffles, runs a hand under his nose, and turns to look at Zayn.

Zayn is already staring at him, brow furrowed, and he brings his hand up to grab Louis' arm, strokes it with his thumb. Louis knows the question in his eyes, he doesn't have to say it out loud: _sure you're alright?_

_I'm fine,_ Louis says silently back with a nod.

Zayn taps his own nose, cocks his head: _you're sniffing a lot though?_ And Louis shrugs, gives him a thumbs up to let him know he's getting better, _so don't worry about it_ , (even though that's kind of a lie because he thinks he might be getting a whole lot worse).

Someone clears his throat and they turn back to the group to find everyone staring at them.

"Did you just... have an actual _silent_ conversation?" Liam asks, his eyebrows raised. Niall and Harry look bemused.

Louis feels his face heat up; he didn't know any of them were watching. "Yeah, you know." Louis coughs awkwardly. "What- don't any of you do that with your mates?"

Harry bites his lip, trying not to smirk, but failing. He shares a glance with Niall. "No, not really."

Louis peers over at Zayn, who is red in the face as well and smiling sheepishly. It was an endearing look on him. In fact, Louis had never seen Zayn look abashed before. Then Zayn seems to realize he still has his hand protectively on Louis' arm, so he drops it. Louis misses the touch immediately.

"The pasta, Haz?" Louis gestures towards the bubbling pot on the stove, trying to get the focus off of his and Zayn's weirdly intimate nature.

Harry goes to drain the pasta and everyone moves the conversation onto something else, thank god. They finally eat not long after that, and they talk about the university and sports and after the others all drink a bit, Louis gets Harry to admit that _yes,_ he and Niall are properly dating now.

Louis didn't eat much but he still feels a bit like he might vomit it all back up, so he grabs a glass of water and announces he's going to his room while the others are watching the football game, not mentioning he's going there to lie down on his bed and possibly die a few times. Not to be overdramatic or anything.

"Louis, you're leaving during the game?" Liam sounds shocked.

"I'm tired, Payno," Louis says, scowling. Does he need a reason now to not want to watch football?

Harry's eyeing him suspiciously and Louis squirms under his gaze. "Should you really have had the second drink, d'you reckon?"

Damn it, Harry is always ratting him out. Besides, he'd only drank half of it. Let a man live.

Louis narrows his eyes, and tries to sound responsible but it's hard because his words are starting to slur together. "I'll have you know, _Harold_ , that I need to go work on some very... important things for class tomorrow. I'm quite sober, and very ready to get things done." He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing at how ridiculous his own words sound.

Liam snorts in disbelief, takes a gulp of beer, and then turns his attention back to the TV and starts yelling obscenities at the game when a play goes wrong. Zayn isn't even paying attention to Louis, too focused on the screen. Louis finds this vaguely insulting, because Zayn doesn't even like football as much as he and Liam do. Not that he really cares.

Louis huffs. Harry stops looking at him when Niall pokes him in the side.

There was that, too: Louis was having a hard time dealing with Niall and Harry being disgustingly couple-y with each other. As he leaves the room, he glances back, and he sees Zayn turning his head back to the TV, as if he had been watching him leave.

**

The kiss at the party had happened so quickly, but Louis remembers every bit of it (which was both fortunate and unfortunate). He remembers how Zayn was bumped into from behind, and how his hands were gripping Zayn's arms, tight and strong, to keep him from falling. They'd stared at each other for a second, and Louis still doesn't know how but the next second they were kissing, Louis' hands automatically settling on Zayn's waist.

Zayn's lips were soft and perfect, and Louis was sure he'd never felt such a nice sensation against his mouth before. He'd opened his mouth, and Zayn soon followed suit, the kiss deepening; the party was loud but somehow all of the noise drained away and all Louis could hear was the wild pounding of his own heart. They breathed desperately through each other, inhaling the other in. Zayn's hands cupped Louis' face (tenderly, Louis had thought, but maybe he was imagining it), brushing against his stubble. He breathed in the smell of Zayn, cigarettes and beer, sweat. His nose grazed Louis' as his eyes fluttered open, and Louis pulled away.

Then they'd just stood there for a second, staring at each other, eyes glassy with the influence of the alcohol, but sober enough to realize what the fuck they had just done. Zayn's hands were slipping down Louis' neck, Louis' hands still on Zayn's waist.

And before they knew it, they'd sprung apart; Niall and Harry were sidling up next to them, telling them how there was some kind of fight breaking out in the next room.

So Louis and Zayn followed them, and Louis tried to act fine and casual.

The thing is, he didn't feel fine or casual. He still doesn't.

It's been close to a week now, and he's still experiencing an internal breakdown because he can't stop fucking thinking about Zayn's smell and the way he tasted and how his hands felt on his face.

It wasn't the first time he had thought of Zayn in that way. More than one person has commented on the interesting nature of their relationship, and they'd been mistaken for a couple a few times in public. They didn't always deny it, either, when that happened, and instead played along, calling each other sickening nicknames.

They were always suspended somewhere between best friends and romantic partners.

It was true they touch each other a lot. In his defense, Louis is just a physical person. But he is more physical with Zayn than anyone else.

And the weird thing about it is that Zayn _isn't_ a physical person, not normally- but with Louis, he is. Zayn never touches the others in subtle ways like he does with Louis.

Sometimes Louis would catch himself staring at Zayn while they were all together in a group, and Zayn would notice and smile, grab his hand, squeeze. He'd find some reason to have his hand on Louis' arm, or his hip touching Louis'. Always as physically close as possible.

They'd joke about being a long-time couple or having sex on the side. Sometimes Louis wonders how much of it is really a joke, and if somewhere deep down, he wants it to be true.

**

In hindsight, Louis knows that drinking while you're ill, contrary to some beliefs of whiskey in particular "curing a cold", is not the best idea. That being said, he isn't prepared for it to actually worsen his condition. He figured he'd sleep off the effects, and he'd drank a lot of water before going to bed, but waking up now he feels like he's been hit by a train.

He deserves it, he supposes. Considering he knows better. But he can't help it if he wants to escape from reality for a little while.

As he crawls out of bed to the bathroom, he wonders vaguely if he's hungover at all, because it's hard to differentiate that with some of the symptoms of this cold, which is turning out to be the worst cold he's had in a long time.

Harry catches him in the hallway (not in the literal sense, although Louis was steadying himself by holding onto the wall) and gives him a worried look.

"Harry, stop looking at me like that," Louis says, rolling his eyes, sniffing wetly. Then he makes a point by going over to the hall closet. He pulls out a bottle of medicine and shakes it at him. "Look, I'm taking this, see?"

"Hard not to worry, I guess, Lou," Harry says, frowning. "You never like to just sit down and rest."

That much is true, Louis knows. He always feels like he needs to be _doing_ something. He absolutely hates feeling unproductive, even if the thing he's doing isn't actually technically productive in the first place. Like the time he and Zayn put glue in Liam's hat.

Louis shrugs at Harry as if to say w _hat can you do?_ and goes to take his Dayquil. He figures it'll help him for most of the day. Even though his body is beginning to ache and he can't really breathe through his nose at the moment.

Still, he makes it to his shift at the coffeeshop and attends all his classes. He was never one to back down in the face of adversity.

Louis and Zayn are still not talking much, and Louis has had quite enough of it, honestly. So that night, when he hears Zayn playing indie rock music softly in his room, he sneaks in and plops down on Zayn's bed next to him, not bothering to ask permission.

Zayn shifts, comforter rustling, making room, used to Louis' constant intrusions in his personal space. Louis sighs contentedly, reveling in the warmth of Zayn's body and curls into him. He shivers in his oversized hoodie and grabs Zayn's blanket, pulling it over them both.

Louis starts in surprise when Zayn tucks his arm underneath Louis' head and starts running his fingers through his hair. It feels so nice that Louis is half afraid he's going to start purring. He had been sniffling all day but had finally taken a decongestant which would tide him over for the night, probably.

They lie there for a while, Zayn absentmindedly stroking Louis' hair, scrolling on his phone.

Louis glances at him, admiring his cheekbones and the curve of his nose. His hair sticks up at his forehead, an inch longer than when it dissolves into a buzz toward his neck. He's wearing a tank top that hangs loose and low, his chest tattoos exposed. Louis thinks that Zayn is a bit too good looking, to be honest. It was kind of scary.

Zayn frowns, then, eyeing the screen. His fingers stop fondling Louis' hair and Louis looks at him, confused.

"What?" Louis asks, his voice small and the tiniest bit raspy. He clears it, and narrowly avoids a coughing fit. He tallies that up as a small success for the day and doesn't think Zayn has noticed anyway.

Zayn looks up at him from his phone, eyebrows raised a bit. "Oh, it's nothin'- just... I guess I'm having a girl I met over tomorrow or s'mthin'…" He's mumbling, avoiding Louis' eye, his thumb working fast on his phone to text.

"A girl?" Louis starts to sit up. His heart is sinking in his chest and it really shouldn't be because he has no claim to who Zayn spends his time with. Zayn takes his arm back.

"Yeah, um." Zayn is staring at his phone, chewing his lip, and looks up when he realizes Louis is staring at him. "A girl I met at the shop a few weeks ago," he continues finally. "Remember, I asked you to cover this Friday's shift because she has an art gallery opening? She gave me her number and we got on, figured we'd go out, I guess. Her name's Lily."

"Lily." The name sounds wrong on Louis' tongue. Very wrong. "That's great," he says stiffly. His pulse is racing and he clenches the comforter tightly. Without thinking, the words sort of spill out of his mouth, "So is she your next Rebecca, then?"

Zayn freezes. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Louis' heart pounds and he faces the wall as he sits at the edge of the bed. He shrugs. "Nothing, just, you know. You tend to not really be one for actual relationships, mate. Was just wondering if this was going to be another one night thing like-"

"Lily isn't my next anyone," Zayn says, his voice cold. " And you know how bad I felt about Rebecca." Rebecca had been a girl that Zayn shagged in the spring. He was thinking it was a one-off thing and thought Rebecca was on the same page, but she hung around him pitifully for weeks until he finally had to tell it to her straight that he wasn't interested. Louis knows that dating was never exactly Zayn's style. In fact, as long as he's known him, Zayn has never been in a real relationship.

Louis gets up, facing the opposite wall, his back to Zayn. "Okay, I just was wondering if you weren't actually interested in dating her, then maybe you should-"

"Maybe I am interested in dating her," Zayn snaps defensively. Louis can't see him, but he knows Zayn is looking at him with resentment. "What's it to you, anyway?"

Louis balls his hands into tight fists. He knows he isn't being fair, but he can't stop himself. "It's nothing to me," he says. "Have a good time."

He leaves the room abruptly.

**

That night, Louis dreams of kissing Zayn, but not in a loving or gentle way. They're on the ground, hips bucking against each other, throbbing, hands threaded through hair, scratching at skin. Louis pulls Zayn in and bites his lip, nearly draws blood as he kisses him, hard. Clothes are being ripped off, and god, Louis really, really wants to fuck him-

-except then he wakes up, his face hot and slick with sweat, breathing fast, stiff in his pants. He sits up, shoves his sheets off of him, and coughs forcefully, accidentally stirring a fit that lasts for at least a minute. He reluctantly gets himself off, tries to relax enough to go back to sleep.

It works, but he has a restless sleep all through the night, and he feels sick with guilt.

**

Louis doesn't see Zayn at all the rest of the week. He feels absolutely miserable, in more ways than one, but he goes to cover Zayn's night shift anyways because he agreed to do it weeks ago and he keeps his word.

Except he really feels like shit, and he's worried the customers will notice. Or worse, his boss. He's heard this manager doesn’t like giving out sick days, but he'd like his employees contaminating his customers even less. Louis is hoping the contagion stage of this cold is gone by now.

Just in case, he's back to washing his hands every ten minutes. He's pretty sure his coworker Evan has noticed but he hasn't said anything so Louis won't either. He wears extra layers under his uniform- a long sleeved shirt and a sweater, so he probably looks a little odd next to Evan in his short sleeved work shirt.

Zayn got him this job, so he owes it to him. No matter how awful he was feeling about him lately. He hates Zayn for not talking about the kiss, for seeing that girl, and then he hates himself more.

A lot of students have tests at this time of the semester, since it's toward midterms, so many people are coming into the café to grab coffee before they hit the library. It's pretty busy considering it's a fairly large campus. People keep coming in and ordering rather complicated drinks. Every time the door opens and someone new walks in, Louis kind of wants to cry.

Thankfully throughout the night he mostly takes the orders and works the register and cleans, while Evan makes the drinks. He asks Evan to handle any food even though the employees never touch the food directly anyway. If Evan suspects something when he asks that, he doesn't say anything.

He makes it through the shift, just barely. It's getting near closing when his curly haired roommate walks in.

"Harry!" Louis says (croaks, rather). He leans up from the table he'd been cleaning, sniffs wetly. Stupid bloody sinuses. He swears his nose is probably red at this point but he's afraid to look in the mirror. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to check on you," Harry says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his peacoat.

Louis rolls his eyes and grabs the cleaning spray, moving onto the next table. "Honestly, I can take care of myself. I'm a grown man."

"I know," Harry agrees. Louis looks at him, not expecting him to back down so easily. "But it's also nice to have someone you can lean on."

"Yeah, yeah-" Louis says, and would've continued talking, but he's cut off by a harsh bout of coughing, which he muffles into his elbow, his chest constricting painfully. His whole body is in pain now, and he feels like he could lie down on the floor and go to sleep. He doesn't know if he has a fever, but this is certainly the worst he's felt this week.

Harry is frowning. He keeps doing that lately. "Really wish you hadn't come in today, Lou..."

Louis sighs. "I promised Zayn I would."

"Yeah, but that was when you weren't insanely _sick,_ " Harry says, exasperation evident in his voice. "You look awful, Louis."

"Thanks," Louis replies dryly. He steadies himself by holding onto the chair, meaning it to look casual, but honestly he's doing it because he's legitimately afraid he may fall over.

"You know what I mean."

"We-ll," Louis drawls, glancing at the clock. "We've just closed, so you're in luck. I don't have to  expose the world to my poor, old, sickly self anymore-" He says the last part in an old man's voice, fake-coughing, but then it turns into real coughing. Fucking hell.

Harry is smiling, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable," he says, but there's warmth in his tone.

Louis quickly does everything else he needs to do before closing and miraculously manages to avoid collapsing in a dramatic fashion. He grabs his jacket and steps out in the cold night with Harry. He isn't prepared for how cold it is though, because the second the air hits him, he feels a shiver go through him and he holds onto Harry's arm for support.

"Hey, I drove here, so don't even think about walking," Harry says resolutely.

Right, he should've realized; that was probably why Harry came in the first place. They were only a ten minute walk away from their apartment, but it wasn't the best idea for Louis to be moving around outside at the moment.

They pile into Harry's old truck. He's shaking visibly now, and Harry hurriedly turns on the car so he can blast the heat. Louis pulls his jacket tighter around himself, burrows his hands in the soft pockets.

"So," Harry starts as he pulls out of the university parking lot. "About Zayn."

"What about Zayn?" Louis asks, stiffening.

"Um." Harry is silent for a moment and Louis vaguely wonders if he thought this conversation through all the way. "How are you two doing?"

"Doing? We're fine."

"Really?"

Louis looks over at Harry, who has his eyes trained on the road.

"I just noticed you two weren't talking as much the past few days, and I wondered if something happened," Harry says, his voice cautious.

Louis shrugs, leans his head against the window. The cool glass felt good against his skin. Harry seems to be waiting for him to say something. Finally, Harry continues with, "I know you and Zayn kissed."

That gets Louis' attention. " _What?_ " he squawks, and then immediately starts coughing- he puts a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stop the fit. The image of Harry and Zayn laughing about it floods back into his brain and Louis feels a bit queasy.

"Zayn didn't tell me or anything," Harry says hastily, as if he knew what Louis was thinking. "I, um. I saw you two at the party, you know, before me and Niall came over. There was a big crowd but... I happened to look over at the right time."

Heat creeps up Louis' neck and into his face. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"It's none of my business." Harry's fingers drum on the wheel, a nervous habit. "But now that you two seem to be avoiding the subject-"

"What is there to talk about? It was just a stupid, drunk kiss, Harry. It didn't mean anything."

"Do you think Zayn knows that?"

Louis stares at him blankly. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "I'm pretty sure Zayn knows it better than anyone," Louis says, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "He's already going out with some girl named _Lily._ Besides, he's not interested in me that way." He punctuates this tirade by stifling a sneeze into his wrist.

"Bless you." Harry is quiet for a moment before asking, "Are _you_ interested in him that way?"

Louis doesn't answer, but the unspoken confirmation hangs in the air between them. Thankfully, they pull into the parking lot of their apartment complex, and Louis immediately gets out of the car. He tries to stride confidently to their door but he's not very successful because he nearly trips on the sidewalk. Harry runs up to catch up with him and grabs him by the shoulder, leading him to their flat, which is really kind of humiliating. He's not an _invalid._

Louis fumbles with his key and promptly drops it on the ground. He stands there for a second, momentarily stunned. That wasn't supposed to happen when you get out your keys.

Harry picks it up and opens the door like it's the easiest thing in the world (which, okay, Louis supposes it should be easy, but it's still annoying) and they find Zayn sitting on the sofa, resting his head on his hand, only the kitchen lights on so the place is dim.

"How was the art gallery thing?" Harry asks, tossing the keys onto the counter.

Zayn gives a half shrug. He's staring straight ahead and looks deep in thought.

"Why aren't you with _Lily?_ " Louis' tone is much more snide than he meant it to be, but it's like someone else is talking for him and he doesn't have much say about what comes out of his mouth.

At this, Zayn stands up and strides over to him, his face screwed up in frustration and anger.

"God, Lou," Zayn spits, and Louis flinches. "I didn't go out with this girl for an easy _fuck_."

Louis recoils and nods, he's physically shrinking into himself now. He doesn't know why he's being so hard on Zayn about this. Well, he does know. But that doesn't make it okay. He feels sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "Right, I'm sor-"

"I don't even like her, really." Zayn's making wild gestures with his hands, like he's trying to find the words in midair. His voice is getting louder. "I mean, she's alright, I s'pose, but I don't like her in the way she wants, not enough, anyway. So I felt shitty about that, but I promised I'd go to this thing- and I really don't know why you're fucking _berating_ me about it!"

"Y-yeah, I, uh," Louis says, forming a rather unintelligible non-sentence. He feels very stupidly like he wants to cry. His head is swimming and he can't really process all this information at once. So Zayn doesn't like that girl? "I'm sorry-" He's cut off by himself, then, because he starts coughing violently. Hard enough that he bends over, his hands gripping his knees.

Harry grabs his arm to steady him. When he's able to breathe normally again, Louis looks up and both Harry and Zayn are staring at him with wide eyes. Zayn looks shocked, opens his mouth and closes it like a goldfish. Louis would find it funny if he didn't feel so incredibly horrible.

"Christ," Harry says, and turns to glare at Zayn. "He's sick, Zayn."

Zayn is floundering, hands hovering over Louis like he wanted to hold onto him, but he feels like he shouldn't. "Louis," he says desperately. His face is flooded with guilt. "I-I knew you were coming down with something earlier in the week, but you seemed to be okay and then I just didn't see you for a few days- I..." Zayn pales. "Fuck, the _shift_ tonight, I didn't even think..." He trails off helplessly.

Louis sighs, but it comes out more as a strangled groan than anything else. How pathetic was  that? He can't even sigh right. "Well, I was perfectly okay to work, thank you very much, so it doesn't matter."

He tries to walk by them both, but his foot catches on Zayn's because he's walking sort of sideways, and Zayn pulls him up by his arms before he falls over. Louis' heart is thumping wildly because he's basically holding him.

 "It's just a cold," Louis mumbles against Zayn's sweater. Zayn is wonderfully warm, and Louis feels like he could stay here for a good while and be perfectly comfortable.

"Yeah, well, it's a bloody bad one, innit," Zayn says, his accent thickening with his concern.

Harry had gone to the hallway and he's coming back now with a bottle of medicine. "You really need to be taking this," he says.

"You're not my mother, Harold," Louis says. He lets go of Zayn and takes the medicine from Harry anyway, flopping onto the couch.

Zayn makes some kind of noise of protest, like Louis should actually be going to bed instead, or something. But then he sits next to him, his back straight and body turned toward Louis like he desperately wants to touch him, even though his hands are clenched tight into fists on his legs.

Louis wants to tell him to relax, it honestly is just a cold. "You don't need to feel bad-"

"Fuck, yes I do," Zayn says in disbelief. "Lou, you took my shift over something I didn't even need or want to go to and you're fucking _sick_. Like, really sick."

Louis shrugs feebly and nods; he can't very well argue with the facts. Because he's shivering and he feels really, really cold even though he's wrapped up in three layers at the moment and still hasn't taken his jacket off and he's pretty sure his nose is running again.

"Can I get you anything?" Zayn asks, wringing his hands. He's looking at Louis like he's on his fucking deathbed. "Like, some water, or a washcloth, food- or no, not food, you wouldn't want to eat right now-"

"Shut up, you twat. Just get me some water."

Zayn gets him the water, nearly runs into the kitchen and back, gives it to Louis. Then he hovers before he sits back down on the sofa gingerly.

Harry is watching them, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He gives Zayn a pointed look. "Well, now that you're both here, maybe you can talk about things. Like, oh, I don't know, the party incident for example." He grins (the evil prat) and strides out of the room, down the hallway. "Try not to let Louis die," he calls.

Louis and Zayn look at each other. Zayn has a pained expression on his face.

"The party..." Zayn says quietly. "Um, did you-"

"No," Louis rasps. "He saw us."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Louis shifts, shivers, rubs at his nose irritably. They sit in awkward silence for a moment, until Louis' breath hitches and he sneezes loudly, the force bending him over at the waist, not bothering to stifle it this time because he really doesn't care anymore. "God, I want to rip out my sinuses," he says.

"Please don't," Zayn mumbles, and they both laugh a little, until they remember what Harry had said thirty seconds ago.

"Look," Louis sighs, turning to Zayn. "I know you just want to forget about what happened."

Zayn blinks. "I don’t... I don't want to forget about it."

Louis stares at him, baffled. "You don't?"

"No, do you?"

"Well, no, but-" Louis shakes his head. It's funny how he and Zayn can have silent conversations and be exactly in sync, and then sometimes they don't understand each other at all. "Zayn, you were avoiding me."

"I know," Zayn sighs. "I just- it was confusing. Everyone always talks about us like we're a couple because we're together so often, and then we... we kissed, and it felt so right, but, um... You know, I didn’t want things to be weird between us, because I know you don't like me in that way, so I thought seeing this girl would make it kind of just... go away. And then you brought up Rebecca, which, as you knew it would, struck a nerve." He rubs the back of his neck. "I know I'm bad at this sort of thing, but I don’t like that fact being thrown in my face."

"Wait, why do you say I don't like you in that way?" Louis heart starts to beat a little faster because he's feeling something akin to hope.

Zayn looks at him, eyebrows raised. "Well, we were drunk, Louis, and I figured if you weren't wasted you never would've kissed me. I mean, we..." Zayn blushes. "We kinda got close to it before remember? But we didn't."

Louis does remember. There were a couple times in the last year when he felt like he wanted to kiss Zayn. But he'd always turned his head away, or broken the moment, because he didn't want to ruin their friendship. And their friendship is the best part of Louis' life right now.

"You were drunk, too," Louis points out.

"Not as much as you," Zayn says matter-of-factly. He picks at his nails. Louis stares at him, a bit dumbfounded. Did Zayn actually think he didn't enjoy that kiss? Or he was so drunk that he didn't really know what he was doing?

"Zayn- I... may have been wasted, but it felt right to me as well." Louis feels something warm bloom inside him because he's said that out loud. He gives a liquid sniff, wipes his nose with his sleeve without caring that it's gross, rubs his arms with his hands to try to warm them up. Zayn notices and pulls closer to share his body heat.

"It did?" Zayn asks. He's glancing from Louis' face to his hands and back to Louis again; he looks like he doesn't believe him.

"Yes, you idiot. Yes." Louis laughs quietly, and to his chagrin, feels tears well up in his eyes. God, he was a sap when he was sick. He coughs, the deep, painful kind, but manages to get out, "I thought you didn't want to face me because you didn't want to tell me you thought the kiss didn't mean anything."

"No," Zayn says quickly. "Not at all. Just, uh. Just the opposite, in fact."

They both sit there in silence. Louis is a bit dumbstruck. Or, a lot dumbstruck. He would probably be falling down if he wasn't already sitting. His heart is still beating fast, and he raises a shaky hand to his chest as if that will help anything.

This is good. The Zayn enjoying the kiss thing, and the Zayn not caring about the Lily girl thing.

But. He feels like he needs clarification. Just in case.

"So, ehm." Louis clears his throat. "Does this mean you want to kiss me again?"

Zayn's eyes darken. "Yes."

"And. You don't want to kiss anyone else?"

"No, I don't."

"Good. Good, me either."

"Glad we have that straightened out, then."

Their faces are very close now, and Zayn's breath is hot on his skin. He looks at Zayn's eyes, and they're filled with so much warmth, he's looking at him so fucking tenderly. Louis wants to cry. They're so close to kissing, but then Louis feels a familiar tickle, his eyes flutter closed and he brings his hand to his face, quickly pinching his nose. He ducks and bobs his head forward into Zayn's shoulder.

He flops his head against Zayn's chest, exhausted, exhaling loudly. Being sick takes a lot of energy.

Zayn snorts and starts laughing. "We should probably not do this now. The sequel to the party, that is."

"Right-o. Sequel to the party is officially put on hold." Louis nuzzles his head into Zayn. He thinks about this past week and he wants to slam his head on a desk because they were both so oblivious. "Zayn, we're... so dumb."

Zayn laughs harder at that. "We are." He rubs circles into Louis' back. Honestly, Louis could stay here forever. He just won't move.

Except actually his whole body is still aching and he should probably lie down normally.

"Za-ayn," Louis groans. "I feel... like rubbish."

"I know, Louis," Zayn clucks sympathetically, and he gets up. He hoists Louis up too so they're now both standing in front of the sofa. "Think you can make it to your bed?"

"I can still _walk_ ," Louis says, scowling. Honestly. No one trusted him to walk.

 He takes a step forward but his legs were being kind of stupid, so he reluctantly grabs onto Zayn's arm and lets him lead him to his bed. Defeated by his own body again.

He flings his jacket onto the floor and flops down, hand reaching for Zayn's. Zayn takes it immediately, interweaving their fingers.

There's so many things Louis wants to say right now, but he can't find the energy to, he's just simply too fatigued. "Bro..." is all he gets out. Where the hell he was going with that, he isn't sure.

But Zayn just smiles, looking at him fondly. "Bro," he says back. He leans forward and presses his lips to Louis' temple, which is the last thing Louis registers before he slips into sleep.

**

The next morning, Louis feels significantly better, or at least, emotionally so. Physically it was still a bit up in the air, but he counts the fact he could walk normally as a success.

When he gets to the kitchen, he sees Zayn, to his surprise, is already up, scanning a newspaper. He looks up when he hears Louis enter and his face brightens. "Louis, how d'you feel?" Before Louis gets a chance to answer, Zayn is up from his seat and still talking nervously, "You should eat something. I'll make you something. I actually have like, no idea what we have right now but I'm sure I can find something healthy." He starts foraging through the cupboards.

Louis laughs. "Zayn, calm down. I'm capable of getting my own cereal, love."

"Right." Zayn still looks fidgety, though. Louis grabs a box and Zayn and sits them down at the counter. He manages to get some wheat cereal down, begrudgingly  swallowing. He blinks, slow and tired; he still feels pretty much like shit, but better than last night at least. Zayn grabs his hand and strokes his thumb on his palm.

Louis sighs in bliss. Yeah, definitely much better.

Harry strides in the room, dressed and ready for the day, and Zayn pulls his hand away from Louis'. They must look guilty or something because once Harry sees them he starts grinning smugly.

Harry doesn't say anything, but his face alone says enough.

Louis spends the better part of the day watching old films, Zayn working on an illustration next to him, stroking his hair, massaging his neck. He tries to get some work done on his lit essay but Zayn tells him he should really rest his mind for once.

Later, Harry asks Louis if he wants anything from the store, but he's been cooped up all day and by god he wants to actually get out of the apartment. Zayn is adamant that he stay home, but eventually Louis persuades him when he pulls a fleece on over his head and says Zayn can be by his side the whole time.

To his surprise (and delight), Zayn takes this literally, and is either holding Louis' hand or has his arm around him the entire time they're in the store, kind of like he's trying to envelop him in his own body heat. It's quite sweet.

Niall and Liam come over later, as they normally do on weekend nights. Louis thinks that they should switch it up, he doesn't know why they always feel the need to come to their apartment rather than being rowdy at Liam's. Usually, Louis wouldn't mind, and in fact was the often one leading the rowdiness, but today he's tired and sick and he just wants to curl up with Zayn in a private bubble somewhere.

Zayn notices this halfway through the night, because Zayn nearly always notices how Louis is feeling and vice versa. It's like they're tied to each other somehow in ways they can't even understand. When Liam hits Louis in the head with a tissue box because he keeps using his sleeve ("that's _disgusting_ , Lou") Zayn takes this as a cue to drag himself and Louis to Louis' room.

Harry catcalls after them. Zayn just rolls his eyes and Niall hits him on the head. Liam simply looks confused, but Louis knows he's going to find out within probably the next five minutes when Harry starts babbling.

Louis doesn't care, because he's leaning against Zayn, who has his arm around him now, and he hasn't felt this relaxed in days.

Zayn shuts the door and they sit down on his bed.

Louis pushes his hair back even though it flops in his face again. He hasn't styled it in a while simply because he's been too exhausted. Then he feels Zayn's fingers gently pressed into the back of his neck. His hand is cool on his skin.

Louis turns to look at him. Zayn's eyes are half-lidded and his gaze is lingering on his lips. Louis leans in, and they meet.

It's not at all like their first kiss. This is sweet: chaste, almost. Louis doesn't want to deepen it too much because he's worried about his own contagion. His hands brush against the stubbled beard on Zayn's face. Zayn's hand is still on his neck, the other on his leg. He feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest.

When they pull apart, they stare at each other. Louis bites his lip, and then starts giggling like he's a fucking schoolgirl. Then Zayn does too, and they just sit there for a bit like idiots.

"The sequel was even better," Zayn breathes. He's beaming, and Louis has never seen him look this beautiful (which is really saying something).

"Agreed," Louis, his voice thick with desire and, okay, probably congestion. It's not the most ideal scenario, but it's fine, because they're both here, and they'll get to have a proper snog in a week or so. They lay down on the bed, Louis' hand entwined with Zayn's.

"Hope I don't get you sick." Louis frowns. He's a bit worried.

"I'll take my chances." Zayn grins and he pecks him on the lips, gets him closer and rests his arms on him.

Louis sighs deeply. "I love you," he says quietly. It's something they've said to each other before, something all of them say to each other. But it holds a different weight now, a different sense of intimacy.

"Love you, too," Zayn says, his voice low.

They lie there like that for a long while, Louis listening to the sound of Zayn's breathing, slowly lulling him to sleep like the steady pull of the ocean. He's still sick as all hell but he hasn't felt this content in a long time, and when Zayn begins to weave his hand through Louis' hair, he's pretty sure Zayn feels the same way.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [maybellemilk](http://maybellemilk.tumblr.com)! :D


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